Counterfeit the Lion Counterfeit the Fox
by Karmaseth
Summary: AU since HPDH::  A vampiric grin works its way onto my face as I stare at the bruised, bloodied, exhausted young man before me.  He glares at me, his green eyes unrelenting in their pursuit to demolish me where I stand.


**Title:** Counterfeit the Lion; Counterfeit the Fox  
**Author: **CellarIanua  
**Rating: **T/PG-13 – for dark themes and slight violence  
**Genre:** Suspense  
**Spoilers:** HBP  
**Warnings:** AU, oneshot, Character death and graphic descriptions  
**Summary: **A vampiric grin works its way onto my face as I stare the bruised, bloodied, exhausted young man before me. He glares at me, his green eyes unrelenting in their pursuit to demolish me where I stand.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own, never will, don't even want to.  
**Notes:** I came across this story while cleaning out my hard drive. It came about as a challenge from one of my professors. She told me to write a character from another angle… say, writing a character I think to be good as bad. I was never going to post it, but recent events have changed my mind. Consider this a good-bye present, because chances are this will be the last fanfiction I will ever post.

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COUNTERFEIT THE LION; COUNTERFEIT THE FOX

"_He who is the cause of another's greatness, is himself undone."_

Machiavelli's _The Prince_

A vampiric grin works its way onto my face as I stare at the bruised, bloodied, exhausted young man before me. He glares at me, his green eyes unrelenting in their pursuit to demolish me where I stand. My own gaze wanders the room in which we both reside.

Bodies litter the damp stone floor adding the smell of the dead to the smell of the mildew and mold. Little light makes it into these depths of the Dark Lord's fortress, but it is enough light to spot the burnt figure of the former Dark Lord. Casually, as though I have all the time in the world, I walk over to Riddle's corpse and, using the toe of my boot, I roll the body onto its back. The grin on my face widens as my eyes take in the sight. This is too perfect.

I look back at the boy, he is panting and hunched over from exhaustion, sweat mingling with the tears on his face, tears most likely spurned by the loss of that damned wolf, or maybe the loss of that insufferable know-it-all, but who cares.

A small part of me pities the boy; after all, he never got to live a life that was his own. No, he was being manipulated from the start. It's almost tragic, almost. That old fool had him wrapped around his finger, training him to be a weapon. Potter should be happy that I killed the old fool, I freed him, but of course he won't see it that way.

This whole charade was easy for a mind as brilliant as my own. Both Voldemort and Dumbledore were fools for trusting me as much as they did. I started spinning my web only months after I was let into the Dark Lord's inner circle. Of course, I needed a catalyst, something to set everything into motion. Lucky for me I overheard Trelawney give the prophecy to Dumbledore, all of it. I was caught by the barman and my cover was blown, but no matter. I had all I needed.

Potter finally begins to recover from the shock of seeing me and points his wand at me. Before he can even utter a spell, I have used Expeliarmus and now have his wand in my hand. The boy is still panting and the look of hatred is still in his eyes, but now the hatred has been joined with something else, fear. With slow deliberate movements I take Potter's wand in both of my hands and snap it in half. Stray pieces off wood fall to the floor while the two biggest pieces remain in my hands… after a few, brief moments, I let those too fall to the floor. The color drains from Potter's face and fresh beads of sweat begin to flow down his face.

I only gave Voldemort the first few lines of the prophecy… after all, that was all he need know for my plan to be effective. Had I given him more then I doubt he would have been as careless as he had been. He chose the Potters, which was ideal for me as I knew them in school and didn't care much enough for them for it to matter if they died. As for their child…

Potter begins to try to sneak away, to get out through the nearby door. I block his way with ease, my tall frame blocking out even more light in the already barely lit room. The boy quickly backs up, stumbling slightly as his exhausted leg muscles threaten to fail him. His eyes dart around the room, looking for another means of escape, finding none, the boy lets out an audible gulp.

I recall running to Dumbledore, begging forgiveness. Needless to say, he didn't trust me… at least not at first. I agreed to spy for him and then I told Voldemort of my accomplishment. I told the Dark Lord I would use this new position to bring him information. So I spied for both of my 'masters,' being careful not to let either gain the upper hand by choosing what information I gave them with the utmost care. I had a very good understanding of both Dumbledore's and Voldemort's psychology which is why the next part of my plan worked so well.

Potter is now trying to find a way to get around me, but now I have my wand drawn. The boy is scouring the bodies with his eyes, most likely in an attempt to find a wand to defend himself with.

In order to keep myself safe, I had another of Voldemort's most trusted followers suggest the idea of giving Lily a chance to give up her child in order to saver her own life. I knew for a fact that Lily would never give up her child, but Voldemort did it unaware of what repercussions his actions would have. I knew what the 'power' spoken of in the prophecy was. It was love. Lily sacrificing her life would bring about ancient magic that would cause the Dark Lord's curse to backfire should he try to kill the child, which he undoubtedly would.

The night that Voldemort was to go to the Potter's I went to Dumbledore and informed him that an attack would occur on the Potter's. Dumbledore did not believe me since I had given him false information on too many occasions- I had done this intentionally- and he also did not believe Black would give up the Potter's. Black wouldn't, of course, but Pettigrew most certainly would. I did not inform Dumbledore of the change in Secret Keeper- using the excuse that I was unaware of the switch- and as a result, no one went to aid the Potter's that night. Dumbledore trusts me because of this warning I gave him, despite the fact that he failed to heed it. I would tell the boy of this, but he will be with Dumbledore shortly, so the old fool can tell the boy himself.

Potter is now chalk white as he was unable to find a wand clearly visible amidst the bodies of his fallen comrades and foes. Unconsciously, I run the tip of my tongue along my lips, feeling like a lion ready to pounce on his unsuspecting prey. Potter begins to back up slowly, the fear showing on his face more than before. Soon, he has backed himself into a wall.

I kept Dumbledore alive so he could train the boy now standing before me. I knew of the Horcruxes, after all, as I helped Regulus Black- R.A.B.- discover them. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort came back… 13 years, actually. Dumbledore was taking far too long to train the child, otherwise he would have been dead long ago. After the Department of Mysteries fiasco, I urged Dumbledore to take action, and he did. That night on the tower, Potter was not supposed to be there. Nevertheless, it helped me in the long run as it drove the boy to become strong enough to take down Voldemort.

I take my arm and pin it against Potter's throat. As the boy grabs onto my arm in an attempt to keep me from choking him, I point my wand in his face. Desperate, the boy finally speaks.

"Going to kill me? Fine, but your master's dead, so why bother?" he rasped. A smirk begins to spread across my face. I replace my wand and take out a dagger instead. The light glints off the metal as I press it close to the boy's carotid artery, drawing the slightest trickle of blood.

"You really do not have a clue, do you, Potter?" I tell him, he takes the words in and after a few moments his eyes widen in understanding. It is then that I slit the boy's throat. His blood soaks his robes as I keep him pinned against the wall. I feel a slight pang of sadness as the light and fire fade from the boy's eyes as he dies, but only slight. Without another word, I release my hold and the body falls to the ground in a heap with a muffled thump. Blood still continues to flow from the wound, albeit sluggishly, adding to the mess already on the floor.

I hear the sound of footsteps echoing off the stone walls and turn my gaze to the doorway as figures begin to file through. My expression revealing nothing, I examine the newcomers. While many no longer have their masks, it is still clear that they are Death Eaters. Their gaze goes from Voldemort, to Potter's bloodied corpse, then finally, to the blood stained dagger in my hand. One of them speaks.

"You let our master be killed," the woman growled. I immediately recognized her as Bellatrix Lestrange… I had hoped she'd be dead by now, clearly not. Her face was twisted into a grimace of absolute fury.

"You have a new master now," I tell her as well as the others making it clear from the tone of my voice that this was final.

"I will not stand for this!" she yells and begins to walk toward me wand drawn. I raise my wand and she is dead not even a second later from swiftly executed _Avada Kedavra_.

"Anyone else," I sneer. Everyone is silent and a smirk that most could only describe as deranged spreads its way across my face. "Good," I tell them. They fear me, and as a famous Italian political philosopher once stated, it is far better for a ruler to be feared than loved. The time for change is here…

THE END

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**FINAL NOTES: The finer details of this theory are not my own. See **_**Machiavelli's Half-Blood Prince**_** on MuggleNet for the full theory. Not that it matters much since the seventh book has debunked most of this theory... in fact, the only part that still stands is that Snape was on his own side. His motivation was his selfish, obsessive love of Lily, and that is something I can tolerate... not some of this mindless love sick puppy crap a lot of fanfic writers are dishing out... god, some people have no brains...**

**Well, I should thank those that kept their eyes on my work… despite their lack of reviews. As I stated before, chances are high that this will be my last fanfiction. If you want more details, please go visit my profile. In the mean time, I'll catch you on the flip side!**


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